


Purposes Crossed

by MissLouisa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Bodyswap, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLouisa/pseuds/MissLouisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has no idea why he signed up for this experiment. Okay, no, that's a lie. He knows exactly why he signed up. When it's all over, he'll get handed some cash and some extra credit. He's flunking chemistry, he'll take all the extra credit he can get.</p><p>-</p><p>It's the start of a very bad idea. Mostly because Stiles can't fill out forms properly. </p><p>A teen wolf rare pair exchange fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purposes Crossed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [consumedly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumedly/gifts).



> This fic is a gift for consumedly, who sent me a prompt for a bodyswap between strangers and I had so much fun figuring out how this could work.
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> Kindly beta'd by [Maryam](http://bisexualmccall.tumblr.com), and my lovely friend Kat helped me brainstorm it too. 
> 
> Title taken from a song by The Shins - Weird Divide

Stiles has no idea why he signed up for this experiment. Okay, no, that's a lie. He knows exactly why he signed up. When it's all over, he'll get handed some cash and some extra credit. He's flunking chemistry, he'll take all the extra credit he can get.

There's quite a big group of them in this room for the experiment. It's all lab benches everywhere, and Stiles doesn't really know what he's expected to do. He just signed the form and handed it in.

A girl with dark brown wavy hair and a denim jacket walks in and stands at the front of the room.

"Sign next to your name and pass the sheet on," she says, placing a piece of paper on the front row of benches. She's kind of intimidating.

She sits behind the front desk even though she looks pretty uncomfortable doing so, and Stiles thinks she probably isn't that much older than him.

"This is what's going to happen," she says. "You all take two of the tablets, and then another two at midnight, or just before you go to bed. It's a double blind experiment. The tablet is designed to make you more perceptive to people's emotions around you, and more likely to imitate them. The effect should last for a week or so. Twice a day, you need to fill out a form about how you've behaved during the day. We'll expect you to continue life as normal during the experiment. Please hand in the control forms, the one about your behavior in the last week before you leave the room today."

The sheet of paper with the names on it gets handed back to the front, and she pauses to look over it.

She looks up, at little helplessly, and does a quick scan of the room.

"There's only seventeen of you," she says, with a sigh. "Anybody know Luke Wadham?"

Stiles sticks his hand up cautiously. "He dropped out last week," he says.

The girl rolls her eyes. "Of course. I'll find a replacement."

She drums her fingers on the table, looking a little anxious.

"One last thing," she says. "If you drink any alcohol, take any drugs, even caffeine or painkillers, you need to write it down. Unless it's something you take regularly that you wrote down on the form when you signed up," she finishes.

Stiles winces. He doesn't think he wrote down the Adderall he takes for his ADHD when he signed up. He wonders now if it would've disqualified him from entering and if he should say something.

"We're done here," she says. "Come hand in your forms and pick up the box with your name on it. Be back here same time next week."

Stiles is too slow to pick up his stuff so he winds up waiting behind a queue of sixteen people to get his pills.

"You never said your name," he says to the girl, conversationally, as he picks up the second to last box, labelled with his terrifying legal name.

"Allison Argent," she says, with a smile. "I can't pronounce yours."

"Most people call me Stiles," he shrugs. "How are you going to replace Luke?"

Allison swallows. "Looks like I'm taking part in the experiment too," she says with a tight smile.

Stiles smiles back, but doesn't say anything else before leaving the room. He's wondering why she's running the experiment when she doesn't seem very happy about it as he opens the box he's been given.

Four tablets, two now, two before bed this evening.

He drops his bag on the floor outside the lab and rifles through it to find his bottle of water.

He takes the tablets with no problem, even though they're a little on the large side, and drains half his bottle of water. He slumps back, head hitting the wall, and shuts his eyes. He feels suddenly lightheaded.

He takes another swig of water, eyes still closed, and then stands up. There's black at the edge of his vision, like he has head rush, but he feels a little better. That is, until he throws his bag over his shoulder and walks a few paces down the corridor where he collides with Allison Argent.

She blinks at him, and he wonders if she feels as lightheaded and strange as he does right now.

"My bad," Stiles says. Allison doesn't say anything, but gives him a strange look.

He leaves her to her own weirdness. He has an English class he needs to try not to faint in.

Stiles just barely makes it through the rest of the day, with his vision fading in and out of focus. Scott catches him when he nearly falls over on the way into their room, but he makes it okay.

He remembers, just barely, to take the other two pills before collapsing in a heap on his bed and falling into a fitful sleep.

When he wakes up the following morning, he's more than a little surprised to find himself in a different room. This one has bunk beds, so he finds himself staring up at the wooden slats above him and wondering what in the fuck happened.

He used to sleepwalk as a kid, and his dad would find him out in the street, strolling down the sidewalk as if he was trying to catch the bus to school, but he hasn't done that in years. He was pretty sure it was something he grew out of, so to find himself in this situation is... a little embarrassing.

He makes to stand and finds himself feeling... shorter, somehow, than he was before. There's a strange weight in his chest, and something brushing his shoulder.

"This is awkward," he starts to say as he stands, looking around the room he's in. But his voice isn't his, his voice is distinctly feminine and not reminiscent of himself at all.

Something fucked up has happened here.

"Awkward?" asks the pretty redhead on the bunk above. "You muttered in your sleep all night, it was the weirdest thing."

In the corner of his eye, Stiles can see long dark hair. Blearily, he can see a mirror on the wall and he takes a step closer to it.

"What the fuck," he mutters under his breath. Except he apparently hasn't got the hang of this other person's voice, because it comes out a lot louder than intended.

But he's looking in the mirror and he's seeing someone who he definitely isn't.

He recognizes her, though. He tries to remember where he saw her, but his memory is foggy at best.

"Allison?"

Allison Argent. That was it. The girl who was running the experiment, and Stiles is willing to bet those damn pills have something to do with it.

"Are you okay?" asks the redhead, now sitting up with her legs dangling over the side of the bed, watching him closely.

"That experiment," Stiles says slowly. "Did I tell you what the possible side effects were?"

The girl shakes her head. "You mostly just bitched about how you had to do it to get your parents off your back. Problem?"

Stiles swallows.

"I'm not Allison," he says. "There's been some kind of fuck up, I don't know what happened."

He watches her frown at him in the mirror. "If you're not Allison, who are you?"

"Stiles Stilinski," he tells her. "I live in the on campus dorms, I'm a freshman who was doing the experiment for extra credit and some quick cash."

"I'm Lydia," she says. "You're going to shut your eyes while I put some clothes on, and then we're going to go and find Allison. Okay?"

Stiles nods, and shuts his eyes. "You're probably going to want to pick out some of Allison's clothes for me," he says. "I don't really want to go rifling through her drawers."

He's pretty sure Lydia's laughing at him, but he doesn't dare open his eyes. "I wouldn't want you to mess with Allison's image anyway," she says, and yep, she's definitely laughing at him.

"You can open your eyes," Lydia tells him, and the world seems a little too bright when he opens them. "Put these on," she says, handing him some clothes. "And I'll have to do something with your hair."

Stiles winces in anticipation. There's a reason he kept his hair shaved for the first sixteen years of his life. He fights his way into some skinny jeans and he has no idea how to even attempt putting a bra on, so he looks at Lydia blankly.

"Boys," Lydia says in a derisive tone, but steps toward him to help him with the clasp.

When he's dressed in a way that Lydia deems acceptable, and she's put some kind of spray into his hair, they head out the door.

"Your roommate better be good to Allison," Lydia warns him, as they approach his building.

Stiles shrugs, and from Lydia's look it's not a natural move in Allison's body. "Scott's literally the nicest guy in the world. It'll be fine."

"Scott McCall?" Lydia asks.

Stiles turns to look at her. "You know him?"

Lydia shrugs. "He's Kira's boyfriend, right? I didn't make the connection, but I heard his roommate was kind of a jackass."

She's looking at him suspiciously.

"Um," Stiles says. "Me and Kira have some differences of opinions."

"Right," Lydia says, smirking.

She raps her knuckles on Stiles' dorm room door three times, and Stiles is... faced with himself.

It's the weirdest thing.

He watches his mouth shape his name, and he blinks.

There's the faint hint of panic rising in his chest, because this isn't right or normal and there's somebody in his body staring back at him.

Scott appears in the doorway, smiles warmly at him. Scott's been his best friend for years and somehow even when Stiles isn't even in his own body he can recognize the beginning signs of a panic attack, so he hustles Stiles into the room.

"Allison explained," Scott says. "You're okay, it's not permanent, it's weird, but you're gonna be fine."

Scott speaks quickly, getting the information to Stiles as efficiently as he can.

"It will be fine," Scott promises.

Stiles wonders how Scott can be so amazing at taking this weird shit in his stride.

He can feel his breathing evening out, and he looks at... her. He looks at Allison, staring back at him in his favourite t-shirt and a worn pair of jeans. He hopes they're clean. It's a bit embarrassing.

"Stiles," Allison says. "We need to figure out why this happened."

"Did it happen to everyone?" Stiles asks. "What if your chemical is all fucked up?"

Allison shakes her head. "It can't have. This isn't the first round of testing, you really think they'd let a freshman test a drug on a group of students without making sure it wouldn't kill them?"

Stiles exhales slowly. "So something is different."

Allison nods. "I don't know what, though."

Stiles looks down at his feet. He's wearing ankle boots made of soft gray somethingorother, and they're not nearly as comfortable as his usual Converse.

Scott looks between the two of them. "The effects are supposed to wear off after two weeks, right?"

Allison nods.

"Then just wait it out," Scott says, with a shrug.

"I can't," Allison says. "I've got to run the experiment, it's really important."

Lydia pulls a sympathetic face, then reaches over to pat her shoulder. "Your parents will get it," she says.

Allison shakes her head. "If the drug fails, they lose funding. I can't let that happen."

"So you go to the labs looking like me," Stiles says. "I take a chem class, it's not like I'm never in there."

"No," Allison says. "I've got access to certain rooms for this experiment, it's with a photo ID. We have to find a way to switch back."

Stiles bits his lip. "We need to figure out why... why I'm you, first."

"Allison, how much contact did you have with the drug before you took it?" Lydia asks. Stiles, Scott and Allison all turn to look at her.

Allison swallows, and Stiles' watches his Adam's apple bob up and down as she does so.

"I guess that could be why, if I've encountered more of the chemical than usual. But that doesn't explain Stiles," Allison says.

Stiles sighs, and sees Allison narrow her eyes at him. "I may have forgotten to mention something on the sign up form."

"What," Allison grinds out.

Stiles glances pleadingly at Scott, who shrugs at him. He's glad that he's retained the ability to communicate without words with Scott.

"I have ADHD," Stiles says. "I take some medication for it, I forgot to put it down on the sheet."

He hears Lydia mutter idiot, but his eyes are on Allison.

"Medicine interactions," she says, mostly to herself. "That makes sense."

"If I stop taking the Adderall, you think we'll change back?"

Allison shakes her head. "I don't think that's how it works. Not with the way the drug is created."

"So we have to wait out the two weeks?"

Allison shuts her eyes. "Looks that way," she says. She glances sidelong at Lydia.

"We're going to have to work out some living arrangements."

Stiles raises his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Lydia looks at him. "Sorry, Stilinski, but you're not living with me."

"But it'd be unusual if I moved in with Lydia," Allison says.

"So we'll both have to stay here?" Stiles asks.

Allison sighs. "Looks that way."

"Two weeks," Stiles says.

Scott frowns. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"Scott, my boy, my man, my lovely best friend. We're all fucked."

Stiles can see the moment Scott gives in. "I'm not sleeping on the floor," Scott warns.

"Someone has to," Stiles reasons.

"Yes," Allison says. "You do."

Stiles wrinkles his nose in response, and Allison smiles back at him.

"This is so weird," Lydia says. "I'm late for class."

She turns and the door slams behind her.

"Shit," Stiles says, in the silence that rings behind her. "How are we going to do classes?"

"You go to mine," Allison says. "I go to yours. And we both take very, very good notes."

"Try to be subtle about it," Stiles says.

Scott snorts. Allison rolls her eyes.

Stiles has never seen what he looks like when he rolls his eyes, and now he can and it's weird as hell. Maybe he should do that less.

"It's not going to work," Allison says.

"Why not?"

"I need to get perfect grades. I need to get this experiment exactly right, I have to be there."

"It's only two weeks," Stiles points out.

Allison glares at him. At least, Stiles' thinks that's what his face is doing.

"Finals aren't that far away," she says. "And if I do badly, my parents are going to make me major in Chem."

"You're running a chemistry experiment."

"Yeah," Allison says, looking defeated and dropping down on the bed next to him. "I have a deal with my parents. Do this experiment for them, do it well, and then they'll let me major in something I actually want to do."

"Which is?"

Allison wrinkles her nose. "Not chem."

"I'm with you there," Stiles says. "I'm only doing the experiment because it's free cash and extra credit, and I'm flunking."

"But I need you to run the experiment," Allison says, eyes wide.

It's weird how close they're sitting, but Stiles doesn't know why it's taken him so long to notice. He's sitting next to his own body, and their noses are inches from each other, and it's so strange.

"What does that involve?"

Allison purses her lips.

"Fixing this," she says, gesturing between the two of them. "And figuring out why it happened so it won't ever happen again."

"Can't we just pretend it never happened?"

"And let it happen again with some poor unsuspecting person?"

"I'm a poor unsuspecting person!"

Allison pauses at that.

"I'm going to help you," she says. "But you're going to have to sneak me into the lab. I'm not allowed in."

"You're not allowed in?" Stiles asks. "You're running the experiment."

Allison rolls her eyes again. "I'm not allowed in looking like you," she says, like it's obvious, which it probably should have been. "Test subjects aren't allowed in the lab."

"But you're a test subject," Scott says. The two of them have been completely ignoring them, and as he opens his mouth they somehow find space between the two of them, and Stiles finds himself missing the line of heat against his leg which he'd somehow never noticed before.

Allison shrugs, her newly broad shoulders looking strange in motion as she does it. Stiles wonders how many of his own mannerisms he's carried over into this new body that doesn't really fit him in the slightest.

"How are we going to do this?" Stiles asks.

Allison looks down at her hands, and then blinks. Stiles assumes she's remembering that they aren't her own hands.

"We need to switch back, as soon as possible."

Stiles swallows. "It's supposed to last two weeks."

"There must be an antidote. Or a way to make one," Allison says. "You can't make a drug like this without considering the repercussions and finding a way to reverse it. It'd be unethical."

"So we find the antidote," Stiles says.

Allison nods. "For now, I guess we have to make do."

"And get to class," Scott says, from his position over by the dresser. "Allison, I think you're with me."

"Meet for lunch?" Stiles asks, looking at Allison.

She glances down again, and nods.

It feels like there are a thousand things they haven't discussed, things that need to be talked out and figured out. Where should Stiles sit in Allison's classes, who should he talk to, how does he not fuck up her life by saying something that's very Stiles-like?

Stiles has literally no idea how to deal with this situation, but they're running on a time limit and they both have real lives to lead.

Besides, his only thought about Allison prior to this was that she was hot, but a little intense. It's difficult to go from that to being inside her body. In the least fun way. The fact that this has even happened is mind blowing and bizarre and not something Stiles ever thought he'd have to deal with.

But it's going to be two weeks, max, Stiles hopes. And then he can go back to not knowing Allison Argent, and pretend none of this mess ever happened.

Or at least, he'll try really really hard to pretend.

So Stiles makes an effort not to talk to anyone in his first class of the day. He doesn't really know what it is, but he records most of it on his phone as soon as he realizes that that's an option he has, and he hopes Allison will forgive him.

Everything is a bit blurry at the moment. 

Some people smile at Stiles in recognition, and it takes Stiles a beat before he remembers he should smile back, because Allison probably knows these people and doesn't want them to think she's an asshole. 

He probably smiles weird. Not-like-Allison. He feels self conscious about it as a few people throw him quizzical eyebrows, but shakes it off and walks to his - Allison's - next class.

He sits in the back corner by himself, a standard Stiles' choice of seat, and plans to avoid everyone. 

He puts his phone on record again, but takes better notes this time around, because he really doesn't want to let Allison down. This is mostly Stiles' fault anyway, if he'd mentioned the Adderall when he signed up probably none of this would ever have happened. 

When Stiles makes it to lunch he collapses into the chair opposite Allison.

"Scott forgot who I was for a bit," Allison tells him. "Started talking about a video game and your crush on the hot TA."

"I don't have a crush on the hot TA," Stiles says. "I just think she's hot."

Allison grins. "Well, now I have sufficient blackmail material anyway."

Stiles narrows his eyes. "What else did he say?"

Allison shakes her head. "That information is all mine," she tells Stiles.

"You suck," Stiles tells her.

She smiles back.

"We need to figure this out," Allison tells him. "You need to help me, because I can't handle being you for two weeks."

"The feeling is mutual," Stiles says.

Allison nods curtly.

It's still weird looking at himself make gestures that he never would, but Stiles is getting used to it.

"So we find the antidote," Stiles says.

"You should probably lower your voice," Allison tells him, and Stiles glances around.

"We're in a crowded cafeteria?"

Allison rolls her eyes. "We're not even supposed to be sitting together."

"We could pretend to date," Stiles says brightly.

Allison swallows.

"That's a terrible idea," she says.

Stiles shrugs. "It would give a reason for us to spending time together, not related to the experiment."

"Do you really want to kiss yourself?" Allison says, gesturing between the two of them.

Stiles purses his lips. "Good point."

Allison smirks at him. "We're friends. And this afternoon, we're skipping class to go to the lab and sort this out."

Stiles nods. "Should we just go now?"

Allison shrugs. "Desperate to not be me anymore, huh?"

"You probably have friends that I'm offending by sitting alone," Stiles says.

Allison frowns. "And you don't?"

"It's me and Scotty against the world," Stiles tells her.

Allison snorts. "Boys," she says, but she sounds oddly fond.

Stiles has to remind himself that he's only known her for a day, and as soon as they sort this they're going to part ways and forget it ever happened.

"To the labs?" She says, rising and picking up the bag lying beside her on the bench.

"Sure," Stiles says.

He's clutching a handbag. It's very very weird, but is apparently where Allison keeps her books, phone, and pencil case.

And they're still pretending like everything is normal here, so this is what they have to do.

When they reach the lab Stiles rifles through the handbag for Allison's ID. The bag is seemingly never ending, full of receipts and there's a tube of lipstick and some lip balm, too. It's weird but also amazingly useful.

Stiles is only a little bit jealous.

When he eventually finds the little plastic card with Allison's picture on it, he has to suppress a laugh. He knows that all pictures on student IDs are terrible, but Allison's is particularly bad - the wind had caught her hair while it was being taken, apparently, and she's got one hand in it, and one eye closed, and it's... well, it's not a good look, exactly.

He runs the card through the scanner at the door and it unlocks and they're in. They didn't really sneak around to get in to the building, but Stiles hopes it's okay.

They're working on the premise that they're friends, and if all else fails, Stiles is great at improvising.

(He's going to tell security that they're a couple.)

He doesn't have to improvise, which is probably best for everyone - security, the two of them, his dignity. Besides, he'd probably get mixed up with the gender pronouns because he keeps forgetting that to all appearances, he's a girl.

He's just grateful Lydia sorted out his hair and his clothes because otherwise this would be a very poor imitation.

Once they're in, Allison slides the door shut behind her and the lock clicks. Stiles occupies himself by sitting on a lab desk, because he's completely at a loss here.

He is flunking chem, after all. Allison is very much in charge from now on. 

He watches her rifle through drawers, take out stacks of paper and pile them in a haphazardly organized system. He hops off the desk to leap through the closest pile - this one has names of participants on it, and turns out the experiment is much wider than Stiles thought.

"Isn't it unethical to have the daughter of the drug designer running the experiment?" Stiles asks.

Allison blinks at him. "It's a double blind experiment," she says. "I don't know who got the placebo and who didn't. Except for us, obviously."

"But when you're putting together the results you're still biased."

Allison shrugs. "My part of the trial is mostly irrelevant. It's just my parents making a point."

Stiles frowns. "Then why are you so worried about this ruining the experiment? Lydia said you'd been talking about it for ages."

Allison looks at the floor.

"We've got three generations of chemical engineers in my family," she says. "I'm the first person who's wanted out in a really long time. Even my aunt, who went into marketing, only did it on my granddad's orders so that she could run that side of the company."

"Your family is like a cult," Stiles tells her, and Allison glares back. "Sorry," he says quickly. "But your mom is the one failing my ass."

"She's like that," Allison says. "It's difficult to change her mind about something once it's made up."

Stiles leans against the lab bench and watches Allison continue to work. "Sounds like there's a story behind that."

Allison shrugs and doesn't look at Stiles as she picks out three pieces of paper, sorts them into the piles, and slams the drawer shut.

"They've had my whole life planned out," she says. "Major in chemistry, become a researcher for the company, and then either go into academia or business. So long as I keep the Argent name in the industry."

"Sounds exhausting."

"I don't even hate chemistry or anything," Allison says. "I just hate that I don't have a choice. Like this drug! It's really interesting and I would've jumped at the chance to study it if given the choice, but being forced to run the experiment sucks."

"So you're a contradiction, basically," Stiles says.

Allison does look up at him when he says that. And then she smirks.

Stiles never looks like that when he smirks, and yet it's his face doing it.

"Everything is interesting, not just chemicals. But if I run this experiment then my parents will let me do a dual honours degree, instead of just what they want."

"Won't that be crazy hard work?"

Allison shrugs. "Keeps everybody happy."

Stiles shakes his head. "You're insane."

Allison straightens up from her stacks of paper, rests her hands on the desks.

"What do you want to major in?"

Stiles shrugs. "Psychology, or something. I'm not thinking about it until I have to."

Allison rolls her eyes. "That's a terrible idea."

"I make great life decisions!" Stile says indignantly.

"Sure," Allison says sarcastically. "Like leaving Adderall off a sign up sheet for a drug trial."

"Easy mistake to make," Stiles mutters.

Allison shakes her head, but she doesn't look too annoyed.

"Just help me sort through this stuff," she says, gesturing at the table.

"What are we looking for?" Stiles asks.

Allison frowns. "Anything about the structure of the drug, things that might speed it up or impede it's progress, make it's effects stronger or weaker."

"This might take all night," Stiles says.

Allison looks up, quirks an eyebrow. "Got somewhere to be looking like that?"

"Point made," Stiles mutters.

They work side by side in silence for an hour or so, and neither of them finds anything.

"Do you want me to go get some drinks and snacks?" Stiles offers. "Given that I'm allowed to hang out around here and you're not."

"There's a vending machine on the second floor," Allison says, looking grateful. 

Stiles nods and just barely remembers to pick up Allison's ID before leaving. 

He doesn't run into anyone on his trip to the vending machine and back, which is just as well because he doesn't really want to talk to anyone at the moment. Nobody other than Allison at least, who's on exactly the same page as him. Even if she's looking at said page with a slightly better informed eye.

The card slides through the door with a series of beeps and then Stiles is back in, handing Allison a bottle of water and a variety of snacks from the vending machine.

"I found something," Allison says. 

"An antidote?"

"Close."

"That doesn't sound as helpful as an antidote," Stiles says. "We're looking for something to completely reverse this."

"Because the original drug has effects that are supposed to last two weeks, it's really difficult to just hit undo," Allison says. "It's complicated, it's to do with the way your body treats the chemicals involved."

"So we're stuck like this."

Allison glances up sympathetically. "We'll work it out. I don't like this any more than you do, believe me."

Stiles nods.

"So what's your almost solution?"

Allison explains, slowly, and Stiles gets distracted by the way she forms her words so they'll make sense to him.

"You should be a teacher," he tells her, interrupting her as she's explaining the drawbacks.

Allison blinks rapidly at him.

"Thanks?" 

"No problem," Stiles says.

Allison rolls her eyes.

She goes back to their previous conversation, thankfully choosing not to comment on Stiles' little blip of emotion. He can't help it - he likes Allison. It's too weird to be attracted to her right now - there's too much other weirdness going on here, but her personality is kind of magnetizing and Stiles doesn't find that with many people. 

He's wondering if they'll stay at the very least friends after all of this is over. 

"It'll probably work overnight, like the last one did." 

"Was it supposed to work overnight, though?" Stiles asks. "We switched overnight but we don't actually know when in the night or anything." 

Allison bites her lip. "It's a risk." 

"How dangerous?" 

Allison looks up at the ceiling, as though she's concentrating hard, or doing sums in her head. Stiles hates her a little for being so intelligent. (He remembers now, finding that intimidating right from the off as well). 

"I guess the worst that can happen is that it doesn't work," she says. 

Stiles snorts. "That's a terrible assumption to make. It could do all kinds of shit." 

"Not with the way the compound works," Allison points out. "Trust me, I did the reading while you were picking snacks." 

Stiles manfully resists the urge to stick his tongue out at her. 

"Look," Allison says. "You're just going to have to trust that I know what I'm talking about." 

"You are crazy intelligent," Stiles muses. 

Allison smiles at him, a little shyly. 

"I'll get the pills from the back room and then we'll go back to yours, okay? It's getting dark out." 

Stiles glances towards the window and is more than a little surprised to see the sky has indeed gone dark, and there's hardly anyone on the campus that he can see from here. Somehow the hours passed without him noticing.

A beat later, Allison comes out from the back room clutching a little orange prescription bottle of pills, and they start the walk home. 

"Guess we didn't need to figure out sleeping arrangements after all," Stiles says. 

Allison shrugs. "Better safe than sorry. I'll sleep at yours tonight anyway, just in case." 

Stiles laughs. "Don't front, you totally like hanging out with me." 

"Hearing words like that come out of my mouth is the strangest thing," Allison says, starting at him, eyes wide. 

He groans. "Tell me about it. I have never sounded as intelligent in my life as when you were talking science this afternoon." 

"Maybe if you bothered to learn," Allison says, bumping him with her shoulder. 

Stiles is quick to retaliate, jabbing at the spot on his side which he knows is super sensitive and making Allison let out a very manly shriek into the cool night air. 

Soon they're in an all out tickle war. 

It only stops when Scott greets them at the front door of Stiles' dorm with arms folding across his chest and an extremely skeptical eyebrow raised. 

"You love me," Stiles tells him. 

"I don't know you," Scott says, but he moves out of the way to let the two of them in anyways. 

It's weird, still, changing into their pyjamas in this tiny cramped room. They make the executive decision to both wear Stiles' pyjamas, so when they wake up nobody will be uncomfortably bursting out of clothes. Stiles crashed on the uncomfortably rough dorm room carpet, Allison on Stiles' bed, with Scott at the opposite end of the room. Scott starts snoring almost immediately, and Stiles hates him for it. 

"This carpet is the worst," Stiles mutters resentfully against the pillow. 

"Your sheets smell," Allison tells him. 

Stiles winces. "Sorry about that." 

"You took two pills, right?" Allison says, and Stiles nods. 

He hears Allison groan. "Even looking at you makes me feel pathetic. Get up here." 

"You're going to sleep on the floor?" Stiles says incredulously, lifting his head to look at her. 

"We're going to share," Allison says firmly. 

"My crappy single bed?" 

Allison glares at him, and Stiles shuffles into bed with her without further complaint. 

It's more than a little weird. Stiles is in bed with... himself. It's definitely the weirdest thing that's happened today, and it has, on the whole, been the weirdest day ever. 

"We better be friends when we're back in our own bodies," Stiles says, but it comes out far more morose than he intends. 

"Relax," Allison says. "You're a weirdo, but you're funny. I'll keep you around." 

"Lydia will kill you," Stiles mumbles. 

"Go to sleep," Allison says, and somehow her voice is right in Stiles' ear, and they're closer together than they were just a minute ago. 

\- 

A poke to his shoulder wakes him up the following morning. 

"Did it work?" Scott asks. "I can't tell which of you is which." 

Stiles sits up and immediately feels like himself again. It's amazing. 

"Morning," he says to Allison, who looks immensely relieved by this turn of events, as if she didn't quite believe it would happen. 

"Morning," she responds. 

"Hi, Allison," Stiles grins. 

"Stiles Stilinski," is the response. 

"Weirdos," Scott says, before disappearing off to the showers and leaving them to it. 

"So," Allison says. "It felt really weird to do this when I was you, but do you want to go on a date some time?" 

Stiles feels a smile spreading across his face. 

"Thank fuck," he says. "Can I kiss you? That definitely would've been weird before." 

When Scott walks in on them making out twenty minutes later, he calls them weirdos again and then throws a shoe at Stiles' head so he's not late for biology. 

"I'll see you later," Stiles promises, and Scott hustles him out the door. 

Allison is smiling as she tugs on the clothes that Stiles was wearing yesterday. 

"You've got a hickey on your neck," Scott tells him. "And you have the weirdest way of picking up girls I have ever seen."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [argentwolvs](http://argentwolvs.tumblr.com).


End file.
